Deception
by Fen2011
Summary: Every agent has their 'case' that affects and haunts them. But it is rare that a whole team has a 'case' to this degree. But this case haunts, affects and nearly destorys the team.
1. Prologue

Driving for 6hrs+ on the motorway by myself made by plot bunnies go wild and here is the result.

First thanks to anmodo an awesome writer for faithfully betaing yet another of my fics.

Oh and the disclaimer – Without a Trace and it's great characters are not mine, people at CBS etc own them lucky people, so don't sue me.

**Deception**

**Prologue **

Running her hands through her hair, Sam watched in anxious anticipation as the computer ran through the latest results. It was something she did every week, sometimes twice a week. It had been an unspoken rule, since the case had been opened, that someone would run the results once a week. But even though she knew that she ran the results every week, she'd still seen Jack holding his head in hands staring at the computer screen late at night. She didn't doubt that the rest of the team did the same.

Feeling a single tear roll down her cheek, she traced his photo with her fingers. They had been told to close the case, they had been told that he was dead – but she knew he wasn't. Jack had refused to close it. So for over a year, every week she had sat in front of the computer running results – hoping, praying that it would bring her news. Hoping it would somehow bring him back to them.

"Sam – anything?" Jack asked sadly as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Sam looked up and rested her hand on his. "No. Where is he, Jack? What happens if they were right? What happens if he is dead? I just don't know what we are going to do."

"He's alive – I know it. Don't ask me how I know, but I do," Jack said tiredly. Rubbing a hand over his weary face, he looked across at his missing agent's desk. His gaze then travelled across the bullpen to his office where his missing agent's personal affects lay; he just couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. His agent was still alive – his agent would want his stuff when he got back. "Damn-it Sam, maybe he is dead – but you know me, I'm a hope junkie. I have to believe he's still alive and I'm not going to close the case until he's sitting at that table debating theories with us."

"But that's not going to happen, Jack, is it? I mean it's been over a year," Sam said desperately as she stared at the computer screen. "It's been over a year. You know as well as I do that the chances of finding him alive are slim to none. They told us he was dead – and there is just a minimal chance of finding him alive."

"I know Sam, but until I get evidence to the contrary – I need to believe that he's still alive," Jack said as he ran his hand through his hair. "I have never lost an agent before and I'm not about to start with him, especially not him."

"Yeah," Sam said as she tried to produce a small smile. She ran her hand over his photo again, as she tried to pull herself back to reality. "So have we got a new case yet?"

"U-mm," Jack stammered temporary confused by Sam's sudden change in subject. "No not yet. I'm going…I'm going to try and get through some of that paperwork that's been plaguing me." He took one final glance at the phone before scurried off to his office. For the first time in his life, he welcomed the paperwork. It was his chance to bury his emotions.

Continuing to run her fingers over the photo, Sam angrily wiped away the tear that rolled down her face. It had been over a year since he had gone missing, since they had to open the case. She looked across at Jack's office, were she knew he was staring at the corner of his office – where the box of personal affects lay.

"Where are you? Why did you leave us? I'm not - none of us are going to rest until we find you."


	2. Chapter 1

Massive thanks to anmodo for betaing this chapter. Also thanks to everyone that has reviewed – it really helps me to write.

**Chapter 1**

**Over a year earlier**

"So my friends, shall we continue or shall we all it quits for the night?" Danny smirked as he counted his winnings.

"You've cleaned me out," Sam said as she chucked the cards on the table. "Martin, are you-"

"Sorry Sam I would if I could and I would've shared the money I won back from the evil, thieving, cheating Danny Taylor," Martin said lightheartedly, as he too chucked his cards on to the table.

"Well m'lady, Martin, it has been a pleasure. I would love to take this time to express my gratitude-" Danny said ducking a ball of paper that Sam threw at him. "Now Sam that's not lady-like behaviour."

"Shut up, or I will so tell Jack about the time you cheated," Sam counted as she playfully hit his arm.

"Well I'm going to have to call it a night," Martin said, laughing at Sam and Danny's playful exchange. "Night kids."

"Night Martin, see you Monday," Danny said, forcing back a laugh.

"Night Martin, we've gotta team up win all that money that Danny stole from us," Sam said as she planted another playful punch on Danny's arm.

"I did not steal; I skillfully won," Danny countered. "As much as I would like to stand here and be abused by you, Sam, I am also going to head home."

"Skilfully won?" Sam said rolling her eyes. "I guess that's what bank thieves are going to say from now on. 'No I didn't steal; I merely skilfully won all of that money.' I better head home as well; I don't think the FBI would take kindly to one of their offices being turned into a casino."

Danny bit back a laugh as he swung his bag over his shoulder and followed Sam to the elevators. "So what are you going to do with the rest of your weekend?"

"Nothing. Pure nothing," Sam said with a smile. "I'm going to sleep in, lie in bed all day. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know – depends if Emma is back or not," Danny said, referring to his fiancé. "She's got some business deal to close in LA," he explained.

"She's not overly happy with that job, is she?" Sam suggested as she slid into the elevator next to him.

"It's not that she hates it. She just gets bored. I mean she's up in the company and been headhunted by several other companies – but, well I guess that she's become disillusioned by the whole thing," Danny sighed as ran a hand through his hair. "I suggested that she should apply for the FBI. She's definitely FBI material – but I don't know."

"Now that's a scary thought, Danny Taylor and Emma Collins – the FBI super couple," Sam joked.

"I knew it. I knew that you thought I was brilliant," Danny replied flashing a dazzling smile.

"You? No. Emma? Yes," Sam joked as she stepped out into the car lot. She looked across the lot to see Martin almost yelling into his cell phone.

"Hey, man, is everything alright," Danny asked in concern as Martin ended the call.

"Yeah – just my father. He wants me to go an event in DC, for what he calls something that would benefit my career," Martin said sarcastically. "More like an event that would benefit his career."

"Don't worry about it, man. I'm sure that a case will come up. And if one doesn't, we can always make one up," Danny reassured.

"Thanks," Martin said hanging his head. "I guess I am going to head back and think of an excuse for why I can't go to his 'wonderful career-beneficial event'."

"Good luck," Danny said, digging his hands into his pockets. "Crap," he swore gently.

"Problems?" Sam asked.

"Not really, I just left my cell phone in the office," Danny said as he turned towards the elevator. "See you guys on Monday. I'm just going to pop up and get my cell phone."

"Idiot," Martin joked. "See you Monday, then."

Danny exchanged goodbyes with his friends before he walked towards the office. He ran his hand through his spiky, untamed hair as he walked back up towards the office. Thinking he heard someone calling his name, he spun around. Seeing no one, he shook his head and walked to his desk, picking up his cell phone.

"Agent Taylor."

Spinning around again, he saw an official looking agent standing by the whiteboard. From his ID, Danny could tell that he was from the DC office. He couldn't figure out why an official looking FBI agent from DC would want to talk to him on a Saturday night.

"Yes," Danny answered cautiously.

"Agent Taylor, my name is Agent Reeves. I work directly with the Director and Deputy Director of the FBI," he reeled off.

"Good for you," Danny responded and then continued, "Okay, sorry, I am just wondering why you – an agent who works directly with Director and Deputy Director, wants to talk with me at 11pm on Saturday night," Danny said as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his desk.

"Let me explain," Agent Reeves started. "The Director would like to talk to you."

"Director Wilson would like to talk to me," Danny choked. "I am sorry did you say the Director of the FBI wanted to talk to me? Why?"

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information," Agent Reeves stated officially. "If you would come with me, the Director would like to talk to you."

"Okay," Danny stammered as he found himself following Agent Reeves towards the elevators although he didn't know how. A few moments later he found himself standing outside an office - his heart was racing. He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, to calm down.

Agent Reeves stepped out of the office. "The Director will now see you, Agent Taylor."

Danny took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As he stepped into the room, he looked around – quickly identifying the Director. He also noted three other official looking men.

"Agent Taylor, please take a seat," the Director said as he stepped front and shook Danny's hand.

"Urr, thanks. I mean, thank you, sir," Danny stammered as he somehow managed to shake the Director's hand and sit down.

"Now I guess you're wondering why myself and the Deputy Director of the CIA want to talk to you on a Saturday nigh?" Director Wilson asked.

"U-mm, yes sir, that question did enter my head," Danny replied nervously

"Of course it did. Allow me to introduce you to everyone else. There is Deputy Director Roberts of the CIA, Agent Hutchison also of the CIA and Agent Reeves who you have met," Director Wilson said indicating to each person in turn.

"Sir, I mean no disrespect, but why I am here?" Danny asked still confused.

"Agent Taylor, are you patriot?" Agent Hutchison asked speaking up.

"Yes sir," Danny replied, slightly irritated.

"Good," Agent Hutchison continued. "Now the reason we need you is that you fit a certain profile for a convert operation that we are running in Cuba."

"Profile?" Danny asked, finding himself smiling slightly and shaking his head. "Okay. Fine. I accept that, and I am willing to do the job – but surely there are other people in one of the many agencies that fit the same profile?"

"Yes, there are others that fit that profile, but none of them have your experience and expertise," Agent Hutchison said as he stood and walked around the small carpeted office. "I have read your file, Agent Taylor, and it is very impressive."

"Thanks. What exactly does this convert op involve?" Danny asked nervously.

"There is a National Liberation Army (ELN) cell in Cuba and our intelligence indicates that the ELN is planning to move its operations on to US soil," Agent Hutchison stated. "So we need you infiltrate the cell, so we can find out their next move." He tossed the file at Danny. "There is all of our latest intelligence on the ELN. I will understand if you don't want to do this and we are not forcing you. It's totally your choice."

Flicking through the file, he scanned the photos of bombings, murders, and assassinations. Instantly, he knew he had to do. He had a moral conscious and he could not let this happen on American soil. He knew Emma would understand. He knew the team would understand and somehow he knew that Rafi would eventually understand why.

"I will do it," Danny sighed as he closed his eyes.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to you to think that you have to," Director Wilson started.

"Sir, you didn't force me, but I have to do it. There is no way I can let this happen in America," Danny said as he held up a photo of a recent car bomb. "When do I go?"

"Tonight."

"What?" Danny exclaimed. "But I have to tell people, I need to sort things out."

"I'm sorry, Agent Taylor, but you can't. It's the reason that myself and Director Wilson are recruiting you," Deputy Director Roberts explained. "Apart from the people in this room, there are three other people that know about this op – and for your safety, it has to stay that way."

"My boss – Jack Malone is one of those three people – right?" Danny asked desperately. "I work missing persons, and it's been a really shitty year for the unit – especially Jack. I mean if any of us are five minutes late, he's already pacing. "

"We will take care of it, but he can't know," Director Wilson reassured. "Are you still sure that you want to so this? You can still back out if you want to."

Danny looked down at one of the photos again. He noticed for the first time that one of the bombing victims was a small child. He clenched his jaw – morally he had no choice, he had to do it. "Look, I would like my fiancé and the team to know, but I understand that they can't," he responded, raking his hands through his hair. "It's okay. I will do it."

"Thank you. Your country thanks you as well," Director Wilson replied quietly. "If there was any other way, you know we would have taken it. But this was only opinion. We cannot let these bastards attack our country."

"I know," Danny said quietly as he stared at his feet. "I just, I j-just want someone to know – please can you tell Jack, just so someone knows."

"I am really sorry but I can't. If I could I would tell him, but-" Director Wilson stressed.

"Sir, you have to tell them something. My team works missing persons. If I don't turn up for work on Monday, I will become their latest case," Danny stated. "Look, just, you have to tell them something. Please sir."

"We will think of something to tell them. That is not your concern," Agent Hutchison cut in.

"I think it is, it's my family you are talking about," Danny said cutting in. "If it was your family, you would want them to know at least something. I mean I don't expect you to tell them details of mission but at least tell them that I am going to be away for a while, otherwise my team will investigate."

"Are you threatening me?" Agent Hutchison sneered, leaning forward.

"No, I am just telling you facts. I am not CIA; I'm not even undercover. I work missing persons. That is my job and that is my team's job," Danny replied coldly.

"Fine, but as I told you before, we will take care of it," Agent Hutchison sneered eyeballing Danny. "Now we have to prepare you for this mission, if you will come with me. I am going to be your only source of contact, your handler."

"Okay," Danny responded nervously. He suddenly began to feel tense – he didn't want Hutchison to be his handler. He already didn't trust the man and now he would have to trust him with his life. He found himself following the arrogant figure of Agent Hutchison towards the elevators. "So what exactly I'm going to being doing?" Danny asked as they stepped into elevator.

"Not here," Agent Hutchison said coldly, his cold eyes not leaving the elevator doors.

Danny followed Agent Hutchison across the parking lot. Feeling an icily cold wind whip around him, he hugged his coat closer to his body. He didn't know if it was physical or psychological. He was leaving behind a life he loved. A life that he never thought it was possible during his violent and depressing childhood years. He had everything and he was probably throwing it away but he didn't believe he had a choice.

Agent Hutchison reached into his deep coat pockets and pulled out a tranquilizing injection. He quickly moved his hand up and depressed the plunger releasing the drug into Danny's bloodstream. As Danny fell, he quickly opened the car door and let Danny fall heavily into it. It wasn't really necessary to drug Danny, but it gave him an enormous feeling of power. He loved the feeling of control. He climbed into the car, quickly glancing at in the rear view mirror at the unconscious Danny and snorted – yes power and control made him feel alive.

Agent Hutchison randomly drove through the city, so in the unlikely event Danny regained consciousness he would have no idea where he was – therefore there would be very little chance of escape. Eventually, he pulled up outside an airfield and glanced back at the still unconscious Danny. He laughed again. Maybe he had given too much tranquilizer to the unconscious FBI agent – but what did he care? As long as Taylor was alive and on that plane, he didn't give a damn. He didn't care did Danny would wake up with a headache from hell or that Danny might spend the next few hours throwing up from the ill affects of the drug. Just as long as Taylor was alive and on that plane. Opening the door and roughly pulled Danny's arms, he stifled a laugh as Danny's limp, unconscious form hit the ground hard. He quickly dragged Danny into the hanger and out of sight. Finding a bucket of ice water in the corner of hanger, he poured the contents over the unconscious FBI agent.

"Wake up," Agent Hutchison yelled as he kicked Danny in the ribs several times. "Come on, you lazy shit, wake up. We have work to do."

Danny groaned as he slowly and reluctantly opened his eyes. He felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. He quickly closed his eyes again – shutting out the painful light that was streaming from the light bulb that swung above them. He tried to put the pieces of his fragmented mind together. He looked up at Agent Hutchison and felt his stomach rebel. He didn't know if this was because he had just remember what he had agreed to or was it the affects of whatever he had been drugged with – probably both. Closing his eyes tightly, he emptied the contents of his stomach on to the hard concrete floor.

"Once you have finished, I want you to read this and follow the instructions. Do you think you can do that?" Agent Hutchison sneered as he threw a file at Danny's feet.

"Yeah," Danny gasped.

Finally, he felt it was safe to sit up. Danny shivered slightly and hugged his coat tighter as the cool air bit into him. Leaning back on the crate in the aircraft hanger, he closed his eyes. His fingers trembled as he tried to start the letters that he had been told to write. Pulling the slightly battered photograph out of his wallet, he stroked her face. Feeling a single tear roll down his face as he thought of the time he would have to spend away from her, it broke his heart just thinking about it. Danny closed his eyes again as he felt more tears sting his eyes. Morally, he had to do this mission – but his heart wasn't in it. His heart was in New York with Emma and his real job. He hoped that they would still be there once he completed the mission – if he was still alive. Still with will trembling hands, he forced himself to start writing the hardest letters of his life. Seven years ago, if this mission had come up he would've jumped at the opportunity. But now he had roots. He had a job that he loved, he was getting on with his brother, people cared about him and he had met the woman of his dreams. It was so unfair that it was happening now, but morally he knew he had to do the mission.

Danny watched as his hand moved across the paper as if it was not his. Some how -although he would never know how - he finished the three letters, sealing them in separate envelopes. He looked down at the final single blank sheet of paper and took a breath. He didn't know what was harder – the three letters that he had just written or the letter he was about to write. He shook his head. He had always thought that he was too young to write a will and it was not as if he much in the way of processions. Agent Hutchison had barked 'no lawyers' at him. He had nearly laughed at the irony – technically he was a lawyer, having passed his bar exam some months previously. He could remember staring at the envelope containing his results, having completely forgot that he had taken the exam. Driving in to an ambush and having your friend nearly die on you days after the bar exam, will do that to a person. But he didn't have the time, the precessions nor did he want to write a will. He would ask Jack – a man he both respected and trust, to tell the people he loved that he was dead – not wanting them to hear it from anyone else, especially not the emotionless bastard, Agent Hutchison.

"You done yet?" Agent Hutchison yelled across the hanger.

Danny looked up briefly, before answering. "I won't be long, just gotta finish up," Danny replied quickly. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment – how was he going to write this letter. He took a breath and started to write.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emma Collins dropped her keys on the kitchen table before kicking off her painful heels, her power heels to go with her power suit as her fiancé called them. Her work clothes gave her the look of one those hardcore, power hungry feminist bitches but that couldn't be farther from the truth. She collapsed on the couch and stretched out her 5'6" naturally toned figure. Unlike her co-workers, her body wasn't the product of $200 an hour personal trainers and eating the latest diet.

Feeling hungry, she wandered over to the fridge, smiling when she saw the post-it note attached to it.

_Baby,_

_Just been called out on a case, so don't know when I will be home. Hope the business deal wasn't too boring. Okay-- I know it was. Did you miss me, as much as I missed you? Well better go b4 Jack murders me. Love you._

_D_

She closed her eyes and leant back against the wall, feeling suddenly very alone. Her work colleagues had called Danny her bit of rough and told her she would grow out of him. But they didn't understand that he was her saviour. She wasn't like her colleagues; she hated her job, but she happened to be particularly good at it. However much she hated it and the lifestyle that went with it, she couldn't bring herself to leave it.

She sighed, the last few days hadn't been a bitch – they had just been long. It was a Sunday night and all she wanted was to fall asleep in Danny's arms. But that wasn't to be the case – Danny was working a case. Grabbing a can of soda, she collapsed on the couch again. Picking up the remote she started to flick through the channels. After finding nothing on, she threw down the remote. She twirled her cell phone in her fingers and speed dialled Danny. She massaged her temples as her call went through to voice mail. She found a small smile as she listened to Danny's voice.

"Hey baby, just called to say I got back and the business deal was boring as hell. I hope the case is going okay, umm," Emma said feeling her voice breaking with emotion. Forcing herself smile as if it would make a difference to the tone of her voice. "Anyway give me a call when you get this. I love you."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Blinking her eyes several times, Emma frowned as the morning sun streamed through her window. She glanced at her watch, and swore gently as she noticed the time – she was due at work in 20 minutes. Throwing on some clothes as she left her apartment, she checked her voicemail – disappointed that Danny hadn't phoned back. Running towards her office, she couldn't help but feel concerned – Danny always phoned her back. She knew if it was anything serious, Jack would've phoned her. Slightly out of breath she sat at her desk and dialled Danny's cell followed by his work, feeling her concern growing when she got no answer from both of them. Taking breath she closed her eyes and dialled another number.

"Fitzgerald."

"Hey, Martin. It's Emma."

"Emsy, how are you?" Martin said smiling as he spoke to one of his oldest childhood friends.

"Don't call me that, _Marty._ But I'm great. I'll be better when I speak to Danny. Is he there?" Emma started hesitantly.

"No. Not here yet," Martin replied, feeling his concern growing. "I am sure Danny's fine."

"I-I can't get hold of him and he's not at his apartment and Rafi hasn't seen him either," Emma replied, forcing herself not to panic.

"Okay," Martin said. He looked around the office before his eyes rested on the whiteboard. He hoped that what he was thinking wouldn't happen. "What do you want to do?"

"I…I…think I should file a missing persons report."


	3. Chapter 2

Massive thanks to anmodo for betaing this chapter, and thanks to everyone that has reviewed so far.

**Chapter 2**

"I'd-I'd like to file a missing persons report."

Closing his eyes, Martin took a breath. He would be lying if he hadn't thought of a case like this. He knew Jack thought of it every time one of them was a few minutes late. Sighing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It hasn't been that long, but this isn't like Danny," Emma said biting her lip as reality hit her. Danny was missing.

"Ok," Martin said slowly. "U-mm, ok, right. You better come down to the offices."

"Sure. I will see you about ten minutes," Emma said as she got up, grabbed her coat and ran out of the door.

Standing up slowly, Martin held onto the desk to support himself. Nervously, he walked towards Jack's office, not knowing what he was going to say when he got there. Raising a trembling hand, he knocked on Jack's office door. Hearing a reply, he slowly walked in – noting that his boss hadn't looked up from his paperwork.

"Hey. Has Danny phoned?" Martin asked hesitantly.

Jack peered up from his paperwork. As he saw Martin's expression, he felt the fear that had driven him since the shooting happened. "No. Why?" Jack demanded in an eerily frightened tone.

"Because-because, I think Danny is missing," Martin blurted out.

"What?" Jack said fear and concern evident in his voice.

"Emma just phoned. Danny's not answering his phone, nor is he at his apartment and Rafi hasn't seen him," Martin said, nervously pacing up and down.

Leaning back in his chair, Jack pinched his nose. He couldn't believe this. Next to his girls going missing, this was the case that plagued his nightmares. It terrified him that he might walk in to work one day to see one of this agent's on the whiteboard – but now it was happening. "U-mm, start checking the hospitals and m-" Jack stopped. He couldn't… he didn't want to think about Danny lying alone in a cold, dark morgue.

"U-mm, okay," Martin stuttered. "Sure, okay"

Jack closed his eyes and took a breath. Taking a few minutes to gather his thought, he mentally catalogued what his next steps had to be. He knew he would have to open a file, he knew he would have to give Danny a case number but he didn't know if he could. Forcing himself to stand, he finally walked out of his office.

"Anything yet?" Jack asked warily.

"Not yet," Martin replied. Part of him wanted to find something through this route, but the rest of him didn't. He especially didn't want to get a result from the next batch of numbers he was going to call – the morgues. "Oh Jack, Emma should be here soon. Do you want me to meet her or are you going to?"

"I will. You continue on with that," Jack replied as he walked towards the elevators. Leaning back against the elevator walls, he tried to think of what he was going to say to Emma. Maybe he should've send Martin down to get Emma, after all they were childhood friends. As the elevator doors opened, he took a breath and walked across the lobby.

"Jack."

Jack spun around in the direction of the voice. "Emma, look I am sure there's nothing to worry around, but thanks for coming down."

"Not a problem," Emma said as she clipped on the security tag and followed Jack towards the elevators. "So do you have any leads yet?"

"Not yet, but we haven't opened the case yet. Martin's calling the hospitals and m-," Jack started. "Well, Martin's calling around and by the time we get to the office, Sam and Viv will also be doing to the same."

Emma bit her lip, as reality hit her. "I'm not naïve enough to think that Danny would never get hurt. I mean, in a way, I kind of prepared myself for the day when you walked into my office and told me that Danny had been shot. But this-" Emma exclaimed. "How do prepare yourself for this? I mean, if Danny had been shot I could deal – you would know the score, but this…"

"This is Danny. He will be fine," Jack reassured.

"Do you really believe that? This isn't like him, Jack. He wouldn't not call us if he had a choice." Emma asked quietly

"I don't know, but for my state of mind, I have to believe it," Jack replied. The elevator doors opened, and Jack sharply inhaled as he saw Van Doran standing over his team. He quickly approached her. "Van Doran, is there anything we can help you with?"

"Is Agent Taylor missing?" Van Doran asked

"We don't know yet," Jack replied

"But you are treating it as a missing person's case?" Van Doran cut in.

Jack looked down; he knew she would never let the team work the case if he said yes. But if he said no, no one would work Danny's case. He had to make a decision. "U-mm, yes we are treating it as a missing person's case."

"I'm sorry, but I am going to have to hand the case over to another unit. Your team is too personally involved," Van Doran stated

Jack closed his eyes. He knew this would happen, but at least someone would be looking for Danny. "Okay, but can Rick Freeman's team work the case?" Jack requested

"Sure," Van Doran replied nodding. "I will get him to open the case immediately." Van Doran walked through the bullpen stopping at Rick's office. She knocked on the door. "Rick, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Rick looked up from his paperwork and frowned when he saw his boss standing in his office. "Sure."

"I have a new case for you. It's sensitive and someone requested your team to work it," Van Doran started.

"Okay," Rick said slowly, suddenly feeling nervous. "Who requested my team on it?"

"Jack Malone."

"What! Who's missing?" Rick asked, standing up and looking through the glass walls towards his friend's office.

"Danny Taylor."

"Danny's missing? Shit. Okay," Rick stuttered as he tried to get over the shock. "We will work it. What's the situation?"

"They haven't opened a case yet. His fiancée, Emma Collins, called it in and Martin and Samantha were the last people to see him," Van Doran. "Nothing from the hospitals and morgues yet."

"Thanks," Rick said as he almost ran out of the office towards his team.

"What's the matter, Rick?" Abbey Khai said, looking up at her panicked boss and friend.

Rick stared at his team. He had known Abbey for years. Tom Wilkins had joined his team at about the same time Danny had joined Jack's team. He knew this case would hit all of them, but especially Tom. Tom and Danny had come through the academy together and started at the New York office at the same. He looked at his newest member of the team. Zoë Heywood had been transferred from DC to his team after Don Clarke had transferred out. DC had told him that Zoë was a field agent but he doubted it. She was uncomfortable in the field and lacked people skills – which in some FBI departments wouldn't be a problem, but missing persons wasn't one of them.

"What's up boss?" Tom asked, when his boss didn't answer Abbey's question.

Rick took a breath and walked across to the white board. "We have a new case," he said as he put Danny's photo up on the board.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Agent Malone, when was the last time you saw Agent Taylor?" Tom started.

Jack leant back on his chair and closed his eyes before replying – he couldn't believe this was happening. "Friday, probably around six – I was just leaving."

"Can anyone confirm this?"

"My team – Viv, Martin, Sam and Da-," Jack stopped himself in time. "U-mm a couple of other agents. Oh and the FBI security footage."

"Don't worry. We will be checking it," Zoë cut in harshly. She was new to Rick's team, and was determined to prove her worth. She wanted to crack a case single-handedly and she felt this was the one.

Sensing Zoë's hard nose ambitious streak, he quickly cut in. "Ja-, sorry Agent Malone how did D-" Tom stopped himself and took a breath. He didn't know if he could do this. He didn't know if he could interrogate his friends. There was no way that Jack would do anything to hurt his team – to hurt Danny. "U-mm, oh screw it. Jack how did Danny seem when you last saw him?"

Jack ran a hand over his weary face. "He was fine. He was Danny – you know what Danny's like," Jack said as he thought back. "But he had been a little distracted earlier in the week but that was after the Anderson case."

Closing his eyes, Tom remembered the details of that case all to well. Although he hadn't been working on the case, he couldn't help but be affected by it. "Fine," he said as he tried to continue. "Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt Danny?"

"Sadly, yes. But you will have to look through his files," Jack said, sounding slightly distracted as he was lost deep in his thoughts.

"We know that," Zoë snapped. "What about people that are not connected to the FBI?"

"What? U-mm," Jack stammered. "Well I guess people from his past, but I don't know – he changed his name."

"So he's hiding from something?" Zoë sneered

"No, I-I don't know, u-mm. He just wanted a fresh start that's all. Maybe he wanted escape from his father's and brother's histories – I don't know. All I know is the Danny I know is of the one the finest agents I have ever had the honour of working with," Jack stuttered

Tom quickly intervened. "Thanks Jack. We will be following those leads up."

"I haven't finished," Zoë said standing up, eyeballing Jack. "I want to talk about the aftermath of the Wallace case."

"What do you want to know about it?" Jack replied tiredly

"I have witnesses that say you slammed Agent Taylor against a car and threatened him – is this true?" Zoë yelled

Jack closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Yes," he replied quietly

"So you're telling me that you assaulted a Federal agent? A Federal agent who is now missing?" Zoë asked ruthlessly

"You have to understand-" Jack started.

"Oh I think I do, Agent Taylor did something to piss you off. You may have not meant to, but you killed him. I understand Agent Taylor can be very hard-headed, stubborn, but that doesn't mean you should kill him. Maybe you wanted to tell him not to mess with you and took it a step to far? The only question that remains is-- where did you dump the body?" Zoë demanded.

"W-What? U-mm, I-I would never hurt Danny," Jack stammered. He looked desperately to Tom – how could they believe that he killed Danny?

"What do call slamming him against a car then?" Zoë demanded. "Come on Agent Malone make it easier for yourself – where did you dump Agent Taylor's body?"

"W-What? I-I d-didn't kill Danny. You just don't understand the circumstances surrounding the situation. Danny damn near got himself killed, I freaked out. Not because I was pissed with him, but because I was terrified of losing him," Jack confessed. "I would never hurt a hair on his head."

"Look-" Zoë started but she was soon cut off by Tom.

"Jack," Tom started, sternly silencing Zoë. "Is there anything you can think of that may help our investigation?"

"No, believe me if there was anything, no matter how small, I would have told you," Jack said in desperation.

"I know," Tom said gently. "I know this is unlikely, but do you think Danny just took off?"

"No, no way. If he needed time away, he would've told someone," Jack replied.

"Why do you think that?" Zoë asked

"Danny's worked missing persons for seven years and because of that, there is no way that he would have just taken off and not told anyone," Jack explained. "I've know Danny for seven years – it's not in his character. He's also the happiest I have ever seen him. No. He wouldn't have just taken off – something has happened to him."

"Ok thanks. We are finished for now," Tom replied. He looked at Jack's desperate, depressed expression and added. "I'm sure Danny will be alright. We will do everything we can to find him." Tom gave Jack a small reassuring smile before he walked out of the interrogation room, hoping that Zoë would follow him.

"I think we have a suspect. He has cause, he's threatened Agent Taylor before and he doesn't have an alibi. Did you see his body lang-" Zoë reeled off.

"What the hell was that?" Tom snapped as they walked away from the interrogation room.

"That's called interviewing a suspect," Zoë replied harshly. "Anyway, did you see his body language? I think our case is closed, the only question that remains is – where did he dump the body?"

"What?" Tom exclaimed. "You're still not going on with that crap. Jack didn't do it, Jack would never hurt any of his agents – he would protect them with his life if he had to."

"Whatever! That still doesn't explain his body language," Zoë started again.

"What you saw, Zoë, was a man who is terrified that harm has come to one of his agents," Tom countered. "I know you are ambitious, but this is not the way to make it. Going after your fellow agents will only make you enemies."

"And what the hell would you know – you've been on the same team for seven years," Zoë countered.

Tom tensed; he knew Zoë wasn't Rick's first choice or fifth choice for that matter. She was an ambitious bitch, who had no sense of people's emotional state. He swung around and stared at her. "I've had offers from counter-terror in LA, DC and here in New York. The reason I am still working on Rick's team is I love it and I love _most _of my co-workers. And you know what Zoë? You're damn lucky you are a woman," Tom said coldly, unable to contain his disgust anymore.

"Why's that?" Zoë called after the retracting figure.

"Because I don't hit women."

Abbey watched as Tom stormed through the bullpen, slamming down the file on his desk. She knew exactly what was bothering. Between Zoë, his best friend missing and that fact he had to investigate his friends, Tom was on edge. It was so difficult to not become personally involved in this case. They all knew Danny and his team so well. "You shouldn't let her get to you like that."

"It's pretty hard after the way she just treated Jack," Tom growled clenching his fists. "She treated him like a suspect."

Abbey stood up and walked over to Tom's desk. "I know it's hard, but if this was a normal case, you would do the same. We have to treat everyone that knows Danny as a potential suspect."

"I know that, but it was the way she was when after Jack," Tom exclaimed racking his hands through his hair. "It was as though we found Jack standing over Danny's bullet ridden body, holding a smoking gun."

Abbey sighed; she hated seeing what Zoë did to Rick and Tom. After Don had transferred to counter-terror in Miami, she had been transferred on to Rick's team. "We will find Danny. He will be fine; this is Danny we are talking about."

"I hope so Abbey I really do," Tom said to the floor as he held his head in his hands. "You know I've known Danny for ten years."

"No I didn't," Abbey replied looking at Tom in concern.

"We came through the academy together, then both transferred to New York and joined missing persons at about the same time," Tom said looking up. He noticed his boss walk into the bullpen. "Did you get anything from the rest of the team."

"Not much. Martin and Sam last saw Danny on Saturday at around ten. They had been finishing up paperwork and generally winding down after the case. Last time they saw Danny was in the parking lot as they were leaving, he said that he had forgotten his cell phone," Rick explained. "Suillvance confirms this."

"So we have basically nothing," Tom exclaimed.

"We are bringing in Danny's brother as we speak, maybe he can shed some light," Abbey said speaking up.

"How did the interview with the fiancé go?" Rick asked tiredly, leaning against Tom's desk.

"We haven't done it yet," Tom said frowning in confusion. "Zoë and I just finished up with Jack – God, the way she treated him."

"What!" Rick exclaimed. "Where is Zoë now?"

"I don't know," Tom said suddenly standing up. "But I reckon we should check the interrogation rooms, maybe she wanted to go one on one with Emma."

"Stay here," Rick said putting a hand on Tom's shoulder. "I will go check this out."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emma stared at the 'mirror' and wondered who was on the other side watching her. Hearing the door swing open to the left of her, she looked over to the person entering. She watched as the blond woman about her height and age, with a file in her hand walked in.

"Are you Emma Collins?" Zoë asked coldly.

"Yes, but you know that – considering that is my file you are holding," Emma replied.

"Don't get smart with me. When was the last time you saw Agent Taylor?" Zoë started

"Thursday morning, we were both just leaving for work," Emma replied. She closed her eyes and bit back the tears that threatened. She just couldn't get it into her head that something had happened to Danny.

"So you haven't seen Danny since Thursday morning?"

"That's what I said. I was in LA closing a business deal until Sunday night," Emma replied, trying to keep the annoyed tone out of her voice.

"Can anyone confirm this?" Zoë barked.

"My co-workers, the people I was closing the deal with, a few hundred security cameras in LA, LAX security, my parents and the secret service," Emma reeled off.

"The secret service?" Zoë exclaimed. "Wow, that's a new one. I have heard of some inventive alibis in my time – but that's good!"

"My Dad's Governor of Washington State" Emma explained. "Do you want the number of the agent in charge of his detail?"

"Oh are we going to play the power game?" Zoë sneered

"No because if I was, I would have started much earlier," Emma countered.

"Why did you kill Agent Taylor?" Zoë asked changing tacks.

"I didn't, nor would I want to. I love him."

"The truth is that you wanted to experiment with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks. You didn't want it to go this far, but Agent Taylor scared you. You felt trapped and killed him," Zoë yelled.

"You're out of your mind. You know that?" Emma replied in disbelief. "'Wrong side of the tracks?_' _– man, do you need to interact with people more often. You haven't done this kind of job before, have you?"

"What is that suppose to mean?" Zoë yelled, standing up so suddenly that she knocked over chair. "You killed Agent Taylor, didn't you? He started to talk about your future together on Saturday night and you got freaked and stabbed him because you could never bring someone like him home to Daddy, the governor."

"What? You have quite an imagination," Emma exclaimed. "Did you listen to a word I said? I was in LA until Sunday night. The night you are suggesting I stabbed Danny, I was having dinner with my father, a senator and several other political wannabes. Do you want to have the secret services logs?"

"Okay fine. Maybe you didn't kill him, but you paid someone else to," Zoë said as she crossed the room and stood over Emma.

"I didn't kill Danny, I didn't pay anyone to. I didn't hurt him and I have no idea where he is," Emma yelled. She bit her lip; she didn't want to let this bitch see that she had got to her. "I love him; I could never do anything to hurt him."

"Really, how can you explain your DNA in his apartment?" Zoë yelled

"Well, he is my fiancé, so I have been to his apartment," Emma replied calmly as she got a grip on her emotions. "You have nothing, do you?"

"Once I get a warrant to your apartment, I will," Zoë exclaimed

"I will save you the time," Emma said as she slid her keys across the table. "But you will find nothing there."

Both women turned around when the door swung open.

"Zoë I need to you to follow this lead," Rick said as he handed her a file. "I will wrap up here."

"But-"

"Now Zoë," Rick said more forcefully this time. He watched Zoë storm out of the room and slam the door behind her. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, she was just doing her job," Emma replied tiredly. She began to relax slightly, has she had heard Danny talk about Rick on different occasions with great respect.

"I know, but there are other ways to do it," Rick said with a tired smile. "So you last saw Danny on Thursday morning?"

"Yes," Emma replied

"Sorry about this," Rick apologised. "And you were in LA until Sunday night?"

"Yes, I have alibis but I would never hurt Danny – I love him."

"Yeah, you have about the strongest alibi I have ever seen," Rick admitted. "We are finished there, but can you stick around?"

"I'm not going anywhere until we find Danny," Emma said finishing Rick question. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a card. "Here's my card with all my contact details – to save you time."

"Thanks," Rick said taking the card.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How's your brother – Rafi?"

"He's fine -- last time I saw him anyway," Danny replied. He gasped as Agent Hutchison kicked him in the ribs. "What the hell was that for?"

"That would get you killed on the mission. Remember your name is Carlos Rodriquez and you have no siblings," Agent Hutchison replied coldly. He tried to hide his smirk as he thought of what he really had planned for Danny. "How many times am I going to have to tell you before it get through your thick skull?"

"You only gave me the file about five minutes ago. Give me a chance to read it through at least once," Danny exclaimed, clutching his ribs.

"I gave it to you ten minutes ago and you should have finished and memorised it by now," Agent Hutchison argued.

"You're can't be serious, right?" Danny exclaimed, staring at the sadist CIA agent in disbelief.

"Pretty little thing, isn't she? Just the kind of girl I would phone and pay to have fun with. But with you out of the picture, I can have that fun for free," Agent Hutchison laughed as he traced a finger over Emma's picture.

"You bastard, if you so much even lay a finger on her," Danny said standing up, clenching his fists.

"I'm joking," Agent Hutchison laughed at Danny's reaction.

Danny eyeballed Agent Hutchison not quite trusting him. "If you so much as even touch her," Danny repeated, using his height to intimidate Agent Hutchison.

"I told you I was joking," Agent Hutchison laughed as he stepped into Danny's personal space. "Anyway, why worry about something that you have no control over?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Now sit down, we have work to do," Agent Hutchison scoffed.

Danny remained standing. "If you so much as look at her, I will-"

"Do what? Build a raft and hope that you survive crossing the Straits of Florida. Face it kid, you can't protect anyone and you never could," Agent Hutchison sneered.

"You son of a bitch," Danny yelled

"She may have been, but at least she wasn't a whore like your mother," Agent Hutchison replied coldly.

"She wasn't a whore," Danny yelled as he slammed Agent Hutchison against the cabin wall.

Agent Hutchison dug into his pockets and flicked out his knife, stabbing Danny's arm with it. He tried not to laugh as Danny cried out in pain and staggered backwards. "Now let's get back to work."

"You fucking stabbed me, what the hell," Danny exclaimed clutching his arm.

"It was a clear cut case of self defence," Agent Hutchison said as he walked across the cabin and picked up a bottle of vodka. "Now we can't have you dying from this wound becoming inflected."

"Then you shouldn't have stabbed me, you bastard," Danny gasped as he tried not to cry out as Agent Hutchison pour the contents of the bottle over his wound. He felt tears sting his eyes as the liquid stung his wound. He felt nauseous as the familiar smell invaded his senses.

"You shouldn't have lost it like that. If you do that when you're undercover, years of intelligence would be useless and you would be dead," Agent Hutchison said as he crossed the room and picked up the file again.

Danny sat back down and closed his eyes. The smell of the vodka was really beginning to get to him; part of him wished that there were a couple of drops left. But he had to concentrate, if he wanted to return to his life he would really have to concentrate. "Fine, shall we continue?"

"Good, good," Agent Hutchison said as he started to flick through the file. "Remember your name is Carlos Rodriquez, your date of birth is 24th August 1973 and you have no siblings. Now where were you born?"

"Havana, but my family immigrated to the States when I was 4. I was educated there but I came back as I believe my knowledge of States will be beneficial to the cell," Danny replied tiredly.

"Good but don't volunteer too much information, let them find it. We have sorted your background and it's solid," Agent Hutchison replied as he put down the file. "Look kid, I am sorry about before, but you can't lose it like that. I was just testing you."

"I know," Danny said raking his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry it's just-"

"It's hard and you are leaving a lot behind," Agent Hutchison said consoling Danny. "Shall we continue with the mission details?"

"Sure," Danny replied tiredly.

"Right we will be dropping you near the Bay of Pigs," Agent Hutchison said. He looked at Danny smirk. "I know what you're thinking but this mission is different from '61. We are going to give you a spare set of clothes and a hotel key card. Just pretend you're drunk or something."

"Okay," Danny said slowly. He was beginning to trust Agent Hutchison more; maybe Agent Hutchison was right after all he had run hundreds of these missions before. "So how I'm I going to get to the Bay of Pigs?"

"In about 15 minutes we are going to land at GITMO, and then you are going to transfer on to a boat which will take to the drop off point," Agent Hutchison explained. "You understand the system of communication."

"Yes," Danny replied. "Until I gain their trust I doubt I will have any information nor do I think I will be meeting with you"

"That's fine, but as long as you use the communication method so we know you are alive," Agent Hutchison said. As the plane began to descend, Agent Hutchison looked across at the nervously looking Danny. "You ready for this?"

"I don't think so, but then I don't think I will ever be ready for it," Danny said with a small nervous smile. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would see this mission through.


	4. Chapter 3

As always huge, huge thanks to anmodo for betaing this chapter. Also thanks to everyone that has reviewed, it really helps.

As WaT-SM noted the CIA probably wouldn't recruit FBI agents for their missions. But I needed Danny to go to Cuba/South America on a mission and as the FBI no longer has jurisdiction in that region; I had to choose another agency. Whilst the DEA probably is more plausible, to be honest the CIA sounded cooler and coincided with my plot more.

**Chapter 3**

Jack was barely aware of his walk back from the interrogation room. How could they believe that he was some how involved in Danny's disappearance? Who else thought he was involved in Danny's disappearance? Did the team think he hurt Danny? Did Sam think he killed Danny? After all, she was there when he slammed Danny against a car. Maybe he had turned into a cold-hearted monster and that's why people around him got hurt. He didn't deserve to be happy – he was obviously a dark man whose only purpose was to hurt people. First it had been Sam, then it had been Viv, then Martin and now Danny. And on top of that, Maria had taken his girls halfway across the country – just to get away from him. He was cursed and the sooner he started rotting in jail, the better for everyone.

Walking straight into his office, he did not want to look at his team's acquiescing faces. He closed the door behind him and shut off the lights – wanting to be alone with his dark thoughts. What had happened to Danny? It was not just his years of experience talking, but his gut – he knew something had happened to Danny. Collapsing on his couch, he lay back closing his eyes. Why was this happening to his team? Hadn't they already been through enough this year?

Martin rubbed his hair until it was wildly untamed. His interrogation had already been conducted. Rick had been slightly softer on him that he would have if it was a normal case. But the fact was, this was not a normal case. He was going through hell, but he could imagine how hard it was for Rick's team to interrogate them. He didn't know Zoë that well. But whenever he had uttered her name to Tom, he had grunted and looked like he was going to punch something. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk about the case amongst them but it was difficult not too.

"How'd did go?" he asked Sam.

"U-mm," Sam stuttered. She knew she wasn't supposed to talk about the case, but she needed too. She needed to talk it through with her friends – with Jack. "It was okay, I guess. I mean I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe Danny has a case number," Sam cried.

"I know Sam," Martin replied as he nervously interlaced his fingers. "God Sam, what if we were the last people to see Danny? What happens if he's hurt? What happens if he needs our help?"

"What happens if we were the last people to see him alive?" Sam asked as she finished what Martin was thinking. "I can't believe we are suspects."

"Abbey didn't go at you too hard, did she?" Martin asked, concern evident in his voice.

"No, I guess- I guess they had to interview us. I don't think Abbey thought I had anything to do with Danny's disappearance," Sam said. Biting her lip, it was as if some how saying Danny was missing made it true. She looked across the room, to the whiteboard. She closed her eyes as the smiling photo and the case number imprinted itself into her mind.

Martin nervously moved his hand and laid it on Sam's. "I don't think Rick thought I had anything to do with Danny's disappearance either." He looked up and saw a distraught looking Jack Malone hurry to his office. He looked at Sam but said nothing. Maybe the case was getting to Jack and he needed some time to himself. But Jack was Danny's emergency contact, maybe he had just been told-. Martin didn't want to think about it. Danny was alive, he had to be alive – it would destroy them otherwise.

Sam looked up and watched Jack stumble towards his office. What had he just been told? Did he know what had happened to Danny? She knew that Jack would be the first to know as he was Danny's boss and emergency contact. She had to find out; she needed to know. She needed information, and she couldn't sit here for one moment longer not knowing what had happened to her friend. She stood and slowly walked across the bullpen. She stared at Jack's darkened office and took a breath. Briefly closing her eyes, she took a moment before she entered.

"Jack," Sam called out into the darken office.

Jack blinked a couple of times. He could have sworn he heard a concerned voice – but that wasn't possible. No one wanted to know him; everyone thought he was involved in Danny's disappearance or even worse, killed Danny. Didn't they know that he would never hurt Danny? Didn't they know that he would die to save any of his agents if he had too? He closed his eyes – no he was dreaming. No one would want to come and check to see if he was all right.

"Jack," Sam tried again

Jack sat up and blinked again. "Sam," he tried hesitantly

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, as she knelt down in front of him. She gently stroked his cheek – he looked so defeated.

"U-mm," Jack stammered. He looked away; he couldn't look her in the eyes. He should've protected Danny – that was his job. He was Danny's boss. He should've protected Danny, and he should know were his agent was. "U-mm, I-I'm fine."

"You're not," Sam stated. She sat down next to him and gently put her arm around his shoulders. "Jack, you can talk to me."

"Sam, I am fine. I-I just need to see D-, u-mm I just need some time," Jack said. He looked away again; he tried to shrug off her arm. He didn't deserve her comfort or her concern. He just needed his team back.

"You're not fine. No one blames you," Sam said as she tried to reason with him. "If you think in some deluded way that everyone… that I think that you had something to do with Danny's disappearance – you're wrong Jack. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt Danny. You would do anything to protect us…all of us."

"You don't understand – Danny is missing, my agent has a god damn case number and I am the prime suspect!" Jack exclaimed. "You saw me – I am violent bastard, who doesn't look after his team. Remember after the Wallace case – I slammed Danny against a squad car."

"You, we were all under a lot of stress and then Danny almost got himself blown up. Maybe it wasn't the right course of action – but it was understandable," Sam countered.

"I've known Danny for seven years. But recently I have been a complete bastard to him, especially at a time when I should've been looking out for him," Jack exclaimed. He raked his hands through his hair. "It's my fault, it's all my fault"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny closed his eyes as the plane made its rapid descent to the infamous GITMO military base. He tightened his grip on the arm rests – he was never a good flyer at the best of times. But the flight, coupled with the mission and leaving the life he loved behind – he felt more anxious than usual. The plane hit a batch of turbulence; he jumped slightly and dug his nails deeper into the arm rests. Feeling cold sweat running down his back, he cursed gently. No matter how many times he told himself that he was more likely to die on the job than in a plane crash it never seemed to make a difference. He felt his heart rate increase as he felt a soft thump, he forced himself to open his eyes and look out the window. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as he realised the plane was on solid ground again.

"Agent Taylor, are you with me?" Agent Hutchison called out as he stepped off the plane.

"Huh u-mm yeah," Danny stammered, he looked around before quickly following Agent Hutchison off the plane and into his new life.

"So do you want more information on the mission?" Agent Hutchison asked, as he strolled out onto the sun baked tarmac.

"U-mm," Danny started. He took a couple of long strides and fell in with Agent Hutchison's stride. "Well if I want to come back – I guess I better."

"Right," Agent Hutchison said trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. Danny was perfect for deep undercover. With his plan, Danny would remain deep undercover and no one would be the wiser. "Agent Taylor, if you would follow me."

Danny looked up; he watched a bird fly freely through the deep blue sky. He felt a pang of jealously – he was no longer free. He had effectively had his freedom taken from him for the foreseeable future. Danny closed his eyes briefly as he stepped into a dark hanger. "So are you going to tell me the full details of this mission?" Danny asked.

"Sure, what do you want to know?" Agent Hutchison said, as he sat down and stretched out his legs on the nearby crate.

"Well," Danny paused. "How long am I going to under for?"

"No, 'can I have more information on my alias?' or 'can I have more information on the terrorist cell?'" Agent Hutchison asked

"I have more details than I need about the case. I-I just need to know roughly how long I will be under for." Danny started. He took a breath and added. "It will help me concentrate on the mission."

"How long?" Agent Hutchison questioned

"Yes," Danny replied. "I just want to know when I can go back to my fiancé, my friends… my life."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Agent Taylor. You will be back home before you know it," Agent Hutchison replied with a smile.

Danny frowned – there was still something he didn't trust about Agent Hutchison. He found himself nodding and smiling – but he didn't know why. "Okay," Danny started. "Okay let's get started."

Agent Hutchison smiled, he handed over a file to Danny. "Here are all your personal affects, _Carlos Rodriguez._"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leaning against the wall, Emma held her head in her hands. This couldn't be happening – Danny couldn't be missing. Danny worked missing persons, he was supposed to find people – not go missing himself. She understood why she was a suspect, but did she deserve to be treated like a criminal? She sank down against the wall – this couldn't be happening.

"Finally feeling remorse, you know that would go a long way in keeping you off death row," Zoë sneered as she looked down at Emma's crumpled form.

"What?" Emma exclaimed. She stood up, levelling herself with Zoë.

"You heard me. I can help you, talk to me and I will do everything I can do to keep you off death row," Zoë counted. She cocked her head and whispered into Emma's ear. "If you didn't kill Danny – well I guess Danny left you."

Emma took a breath. She knew what Zoë was trying to do. Her power hungry colleagues did it the whole time. The bitch was getting to her – but she wasn't about to let Zoë know that. "At least I am in a relationship; at least I have someone who cares about me."

"What?" Zoë exclaimed

"You heard me! I have a family, I have friends and I still have a fiancé. What do you have?" Emma countered. She moved around so she was at Zoë's side, she turned her head. "What do you have?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Zoë yelled.

"What's my problem?" Emma said with raised eyebrows. "Zoë look in the mirror, I'm not the one with the problem. I just want my fiancé back!"

"Well, bitch, considering you probably killed him; you're never going to get him back!" Zoë yelled

"What's up with you – do you know something? Do you know what happened to Danny?" Emma exclaimed.

"I'm a FBI agent; I wouldn't hurt a fellow agent," Zoë counted

"Then why the hell did you treat Jack like a criminal?" Emma asked

"Because Agent Malone is the prime suspect in the disappearance of a federal agent, and he has violent streak. He has threatened Agent Taylor in the past and he has assaulted Agent Taylor in the past," Zoë counted. "Now tell me I shouldn't treat Agent Malone like a criminal!"

"Fine! He's a suspect, but that gives you no right to treat him like you did," Emma counted

"Are you telling me how do my job?" Zoë exclaimed

"Yeah," Emma started. "Well considering you can't do yours, I think it's a damn good idea."

Zoë squared up to Emma. She was a banker, she could easily take her. "You bitch," Zoë yelled.

"I think you will find that I am not of the canine species. Don't they teach you that at Quantico or did you skip that class?" Emma counted. Usually she didn't play these games, but this was different. Her emotions were all over the place, and well, Zoë had pissed her off. She cocked her head to one side. "Sorry I am just trying to work out how you became an FBI agent – did you sleep with your instructors for a pass?"

Zoë flexed her muscles; no one spoke to her like that. She curled her hand into a fist and swung it at Emma. She felt a pang of satisfaction when her fist connected with Emma's jaw. "Don't mess with me."

Emma winced slightly and touched her jaw. She couldn't help but smile – she had got just the reaction she was looking for. "I guess Jack isn't the only one with a violent streak."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny drew his knees up to his chest and let the wind whip through his hair. The boat moved smoothly through the early morning chop. He closed his eyes, the rising sun was beautiful it lit up the whole sky, with brilliant colours – but he couldn't concentrate on its beauty. He was leaving the life he loved. A great job with great colleagues, a brother who he was finally getting along with and a woman who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But he was leaving all before because of his moral conscious. He sighed, he didn't believe Agent Hutchison – that he it would be over before he knew it. He some how knew he was in this for the long haul – he just hoped that when it was all over, he would have his life to come back to.

"Señor Rodríguez," a voice called out.

Danny continued to stare out at the ocean – his mind at this moment not associating Carlos Rodriquez with himself.

"Señor Rodríguez," the voice called out again.

"Huh," Danny said, spinning around. "U-mm, yeah what's up?"

"We are at the drop point."

Danny stared at the beach, at the twinkling lights. His life as he knew it was over. He wasn't Special Agent Danny Taylor of the FBI, but Carlos Rodriguez, a low level terrorist. He felt a lone tear roll down his face as he thought of who he was leaving behind. His life would never be the same – he would never have a job like he had with the colleagues he worked with. He would never be with a beautiful, intelligent woman like Emma. He would never have the family he dreamed about. He took a breath and walked to the back of the boat. He shook the driver's hand – yet another person that he had met in 24 hours that he didn't know the name of and probably never would. He took one final look at the boat, at his real life. He dived off the back and into his new life.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The shrill ring of the phone caused the figure to stir in the darken room. Groaning, the figure fumbled for the annoying device.

"Malone," he said groggily.

"Am I speaking to Special Agent John Michael Malone of the FBI?" an annoying official sounding voice asked.

Jack frowned – no one called him by his birth name – not even his father. "Yes," he replied not knowing if he wanted to know what this official was going to tell him.

"-Of the missing persons unit in New York?" the voice continued.

"Yes," Jack said slowly sitting up. He glanced at his alarm clock – which read 6 am. What official would phone at 6 am on his home phone – he thought, feeling more nervous by the second.

"And you are Special Agent Daniel Taylor's boss?" the voice continued.

"Yes," Jack yelled, sitting bolt upright. Any sigh of sleep had gone with those eight words. "Look if you have information on Danny, you better well tell me or you'll live to regret it."

"Special Agent Malone, my name is Special Agent Hutchison of the CIA and I think its best if we disgust this matter at the CIA office in New York."

"Why the hell can't you tell me now?" Jack yelled. With his phone glued to his ear, he grabbed his suit and started to get dressed.

"Because this is not a secure line and I am not about to divulge classified information over an insecure phone line," Agent Hutchison said in an arrogant tone.

"Fine I will see you in thirty minutes," Jack said as he slammed down the phone. He collapsed on the couch – someone in the CIA had information on Danny. He had been desperate for any form of information – but now he didn't know if he wanted to know. He thought briefly about phoning one of the team, but quickly dismissed the idea. He didn't know what this information was for all he it could be nothing or worse Danny's confirmed death. He stared at the mirror and an old tired man stared back. This case had aged him like no other case had done before – but he had never had to deal with a case like this before. He had unwittingly become attached to this group of agents. He had never intended to but it just happened. If something happened to one of them it was as though someone had happened to him as well. In the last year he had felt sick with fear. It had started with Sam long before this fateful year. He had begun to think it was safe again. He had begun to feel he could let his agents out alone again. Then Viv had her heart problems and he had pulled his troops closer – watching for the slightest sign that they weren't 100 percent. Then the shooting happened. He just couldn't let his remaining two agents out of his sight. He couldn't let anything happen to them. Viv had returned to work, followed by Martin and things had started to return to normal until Danny had gone missing. He had begun to understand how Chet Collins had felt – wanting… needing any information no matter how small or weak it was. He needed information; he needed to know what had happened to his agent. He didn't want to find out that Danny was dead but at least it would be some form of closure.

He rubbed his weary face. Whatever the CIA agent was going to tell him had happened there was no sense in delaying the meeting. But the longer he delayed it the longer he could keep on believing that Danny was alive. Maybe Danny was still alive and in this meeting he would see an alive and well Danny Taylor. He shook his head – this wasn't one of his disillusionial dreams. With fear and apprehension weighting every stride, he slowly made it to his car.

Jack pulled his car to a stop outside the New York CIA office and rested his head against the steering wheel for a moment. He owed it the team to find out… he owed it to Emma… he owed it to Danny. He some how managed to climb out of his car and walk into the CIA office. He vaguely heard himself ask for Agent Hutchison.

"Agent Malone"

On hearing a cold official sounding voice, Jack span around to meet the owner of the voice. "Yes," he managed to say.

"Can I see some ID?" Agent Hutchison asked coldly

"S-Sure," Jack stammered as he handed over his ID.

Agent Hutchison flicked open Jack's ID and stared at it for a while, before handing it back. "That seems to be in order. Come with me."

Jack watched the retracting figure of Agent Hutchison and found himself following Agent Hutchison. He was lead into a small, airless, soulless room. He collapsed into the chair and stared into Agent Hutchison's cold, dark eyes.

"Here are Agent Taylor's personal affects," Agent Hutchison said as he reached down and handed Jack a brown paper bag.

"W-What?" Jack stammered

"Agent Taylor is dead," Agent Hutchison stated in the same cold tone

"How? Why?" Jack demanded

"Because he was on a CIA op and he screwed up."

"What?" Jack said in shock

"Look, Agent Malone, it is very simple – your agent screwed up and he paid with his life. Do you understand? Or do you want me to explain with small words and pictures," Agent Hutchison sneered

"No I understand, I-I j-just don't understand why Danny was working for you?" Jack stated in the same desperate tone.

"Because he agreed too," Agent Hutchison stated

"He agreed to?" Jack repeated slowly as he let the words sink in. He knew whatever the reason Danny had chosen to do this mission, it was honourable. He had probably thought that morally – he had to do it. And now because of Danny's overwhelming urge to help people, he was dead. "What was the mission for?"

"I am sorry. Due to the National Security Act of 1947, I cannot divulge that information," Agent Hutchison stated arrogantly.

"My agent has died, sorry was murdered and you cannot tell me how he died? He was murdered on your watch. At the very least, you should tell me how he died," Jack yelled

"Face it. He's dead – there's nothing you can do. At least you don't have to tell anyone else," Agent Hutchison replied coldly

Jack clenched his jaw, his grief was passed tears – they would have to wait. All he could feel now was anger and rage. Didn't this scumbag value Danny's life like he did?

"You're wrong there. I have to tell his fiancé, his brother, his sister in law, his nephew and my team – who he was very close to. You took him away from us at the very least you could tell me how he died," Jack replied in a list emotion filled tone.

"From what we can tell, he was executed – he was shot in the back of the head. I am sorry there wasn't enough of his remains to be send back," Agent Hutchison continued in the same cold, emotionless voice.

Jack stared at Agent Hutchison in disbelief – had the job made his man completely detached from his emotions, or had he been born that way – the latter Jack thought. He felt the walls close in on him. Why wasn't Hutchison affected by this airless room? He couldn't breath; he had to get out of this cold, airless room. He vaguely heard himself mumble a reply before he stumbled out. He some how made it to his car, where he leant against it – drawing vital oxygen into his deprived lungs. His world span – Danny couldn't be dead. He couldn't believe that he would never see his cocky, hot-headed but warm and caring agent again.

How he made it back to the office, Jack would never know. He staggered into his office, clutching the paper bag. He collapsed on the couch and held his head in his hands – still clutching the paper bag. He didn't know if he could open the bag, nor did he know if he could tell the team. He didn't know if he could tell Danny's fiancé that the man she loved was dead. She had been highly cooperative since the beginning of the case – not that he had believed for a second that she was involved.

He raked his hand through his dishevelled hair, and took a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself. He slowly opened the bag, inhaling sharply as he looked at the contents. Looking at his agent's personal affects somehow made Danny's death real – although he didn't really believe that Danny was dead. He rooted through the contents, biting back tears as his hand brushed Danny's ID. He couldn't believe Danny was dead, he had known Danny for over seven years. He stopped when his hand came across a heavy envelope; he slowly pulled it out and stared at it. He stared at Danny's scrawl, addressing the envelope to him. With trembling fingers he slowly opened the envelope – not wanting to read the contents.

_Jack,_

_How do you start a letter like this, how do I ask you to do this? It's not something they train you to do at Quantico. Well, if you are reading this, then I am dead. And I am sorry for any pain I have brought to you by asking you to do this but I couldn't think of anyone else that I would trust. In the envelope, there are three other letters; I would be so grateful if you would give them to the corresponding people. _

_Below are my bank details, I would like you to give the money to my brother and his family. The rest of my stuff well, whoever wants it, can have it – I think Martin wanted my car. Also can I ask a huge favour and see if you can get a FBI interview for Emma? I think she'll need you guys now. Again, my apologies for this letter but I didn't know who else to ask. Thank you…thanks for everything, Jack._

_Danny_

Jack inhaled sharply as he finished reading the letter. He looked down at the three letters that Danny had requested him to give to the addressed people. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek as he thought of the terrible news he would have to deliver. In his FBI career, he had told countless people about the loss of a loved one, but this was different. He knew and cared about the deceased. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, he couldn't use such clinical terms when he was referring to Danny. But it didn't change the fact that he would still have to tell the team, Danny's fiancée and his brother about his death – Danny had asked him to. Danny was dead and he didn't know how he was going to tell them.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, if I did, well it would still be on air.

I have no idea if anyone is still reading this, but there, finally, is an update... yes I know the last one was in 2006! Anyway, I was looking for a distraction for stats essays, dissertations and job applications. After exhausting the following; cleaning the flat, cooking, reorganising my DVD/CD/book collection, it was only natural the computer was next on the list and this lead me to rediscovering my fanfics... I hope you enjoy my offering.

**Chapter 5**

Jack stared at his watch in disbelief. He couldn't believe he had been sitting here for two hours, it felt like only seconds had passed since he had read Danny's letter. The team would be arriving soon; they knew they would've had as much sleep as he had. He knew that Rick would want an update. He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears threaten. Danny wasn't missing anymore. Whilst the case was open he had hope, now he had none – Danny was dead and it was his fault. He raked his hands through his greying, dishevelled hair; Danny was only thirty-two for Christ stake. He had is whole life in front of him, he should've had a family to call his own. He sighed; he knew Danny would've made a fantastic father, but now because of him, he would never have that opportunity.

The knock at the door startled him. He heard a rough, emotional voice and barely recognised as his own. "Come in."

"Morning, I was wondering if there had been any developments in Danny's case or if we had a new case ourselves," Viv said as she walked into his office. She stopped in her tracks, when she saw her boss and friend. His face was pale with a slight grey tinge and streaked with tears. His eyes seemed have lost their spark. He seemed barely aware of his surrounds. He seemed as though he had lost all hope, and she was terrified of asking why.

"Jack?" she asked hesitantly. "Jack what's the matter; do you know something about Danny?"

He didn't look up, he couldn't look up. He couldn't cope with their blame and anger. He knew he deserved it, but he just couldn't cope with it. He stared down at his hands and pinched them, hoping that it would bring him out of this nightmare, but it didn't. "V-Viv, just, u-mm please can you bring the team in?" he managed to said in a small, lost voice, that he didn't recognise as his own.

"Jack?"

"P-Please Viv, please just," Jack said in a near whisper. He bit his lip – anything to distract him from the pain of his guilt.

Viv swallowed hard and walked out of the office. She had a feeling… she knew what Jack was going to tell them. When Danny was missing there had been hope… now there was none.

Jack dug his fingernails into his scalp, as he tried to look for a way of escaping his guilt. He tried to take a couple of calming breaths in ordered to pull himself together, but he couldn't. He silently cursed. Danny's final wish was that he told everyone. He had to pull himself together for Danny. He closed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair again. He inhaled sharply when there was another knock on the door. "Come in," he said in a slightly stronger voice than before.

Martin swallowed hard. He had suspect what Jack wanted to talk to them about when he had seen Viv's downcast expression, but it was confirmed when he saw Jack. It was as though Jack had aged ten years over night. He looked so fragile that the lightest breeze would knock him down. His eyes had lost all hope and life. He knew what Jack was about to tell them, but he didn't want to hear it. If Jack didn't tell them, then he could carry on believing Danny was alive. But that wasn't the case. Danny was dead. When they first met, Martin thought it would be impossible to ever like or work with him for that matter, but after a rocky start, he now considered Danny has a good friend, a brother even. Or he did, he thought sadly.

Sam looked nervously at Jack. She thought he had looked terrible last night, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now. His usually strong face looked pale and almost gaunt. He was usually so confident but now he looked defeated. She understood, he didn't have to open his mouth to tell them the news that they were all dreading. Danny was gone. Danny had been taken from them and he would never return. Maybe if she ran out of the room before Jack had a chance to tell them, then, maybe it wouldn't be true. Maybe she could carry on believing that Danny was alive.

"U-mm," Jack stammered as he tried to clear his throat. "U-mm, I-I, I-I sorry I, just don't know how to say this." He paused as he tried to gather his thoughts. But all he could think about was Danny's dying wish. He guessed Danny wanted him to tell everyone because he thought he was strong, but he wasn't and Danny didn't deserve this. No Danny deserved far better than this. He took a deep breath before he continued. "This morning, I received a phone call from someone in the CIA. He told me to come down to the offices downtown, which I did." He took a deep breath before continuing. "He, he told me that Danny has been recruited by the CIA for a mission. He didn't tell me much, a-apart from, apart from…" Jack held his head in his hands, he knew he had to continue but he couldn't.

"He what Jack?" Martin asked gently

Sam glared at Martin. "Its okay Jack, just take your time," she said as she sat next to him and rubbed his back. "Just take your time."

"Danny's dead," he finally managed to blurted out.

Sorry it was short, but I will update... and the next one will before 2016!


	6. Chapter 5

Wow, I can't believe people are still reading this! Many thanks for all of the reviews. Okay, enough of that... on with the fic.

**Chapter 5**

The plain wooden box stared at him, mockingly, twisting at his gut and emotions. Playing with them as thought it were a game. But it wasn't a game; it was life, his life, and the box, well the cheaply engraved metal plaque told him whose life now lay within that cheap, non-descript flimsy wooden box. It seemed so unfitting, so unfair, someone as vibrant and energetic as Danny had boiled down to something so insignificant. But who was to blame? Was it Danny for accepting the assignment, and as Hutchison put it, 'screwed up'? No, Danny didn't have the training the 'company' had at the farm. He knew Danny's heart, he knew the kid would do anything to help anyone, even if it that meant putting his life in danger. Was it the CIA's fault for recruiting a vastly inexperienced agent? He couldn't help but shift some of the blame towards the sister agency. However, there was something, or someone who held more of the blame than anyone, or anything put together – him. He knew he had lost control in recent months. He knew he had distanced himself from the team, especially Danny. The ambush, which had so nearly claimed Martin's life and turned Danny, his normally sensible, although hot headed agent, into self destructive idiot with a death wish. Viv had come into his office after the Wallace case. He had mumbled something about her health and now it good it was to have Martin back. She had shot him a glare and mentioned something about Danny. He had nodded and mumbled something about getting a new agent and how that might sort him out. Viv had all but slapped him, he could not remember everything she said, but he did remember her mentioning something on the lines of; you need to help him before we lose him. He had thought about it. He had even tried, but the emotions and tensions between the two had been too raw, too painful. And now, on the morning of the day he was going to scatter the ashes of his agent , his friend, he couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps he had spoken to Danny, then maybe it wouldn't be about to scatter his friend's ashes into the Hudson.

**Liberty Island**

**2 weeks after Agent Hutchison's news**

They had stood out from the crowd crossing the Hudson towards Liberty Island; the tourists in their colourful clothing, joyful expressions adorning their faces; their group in their dark coats and somber expressions. The tourists looked towards the Statue of Liberty with excitement, whilst they back towards New York and thought of what they had lost.

"You would have thought being an FBI agent we could have skipped all this," Jack grumbled, waving his arm towards the seeming never ending security queue, the other wrapped protectively around the wooden box.

"Jack," Viv said in a gentle voice, "let them do their jobs."

"I will, but we're FBI agents for god's sake, why can't they leave us in peace! We've sworn an oath to protect this country, and some of us..." He stopped and looked down for a moment. "Well you know, some of us have paid a price higher than others."

"I know Jack, I know," she said quietly as tears threatened. "But," she looked over at the younger group. "They don't need this; Danny wouldn't want you to do this."

At the mention of the younger agent's name, Jack froze, bit his lip and looked away. "I know Viv, don't you think I know that?" he said, his jaw tensing.

"Jack," she sighed, she had said this countless times over the last few weeks. "Jack," she breathed, "Jack it wasn't your fault. Danny made his decision, I don't blame Danny. I know it wasn't his fault, but if you are going to blame yourself, then you might as well blame Danny as well." She paused, knowing her last statement had hit home. She knew Jack had been hard on Danny when she had returned to work, but before, she could only imagine how hard he on the poor kid. With her and Martin off sick, she knew he wouldn't take his anger and frustration out on Sam, so that only left Danny.

Jack bit his lip and continued to look away. He knew he had no words to come back to that statement. It was his fault, but it wasn't Danny's. How could it be Danny's? He knew Danny had followed his heart, he knew Danny had probably been pressured into the mission, but if he followed Viv's logical and how he felt, then it was Danny's fault he was dead. He couldn't be, it just couldn't. He could not blame Danny. It was not Danny's fault, it was his.

They stood at the far northern end of Liberty Island, lost in their thoughts, not knowing what to do or say. The warm July wind, and laughs of happy families whipped around them, the emotions felt foreign to them, as if they would never be able to feel them again.

Rafi step forward, he eyed the small group before him. They should feel so foreign to him; law enforcement and success, but at this moment, he had never felt so close to a group of people than he did now. He looked to his left before squeezing Sylvia's hand and stepping forward.

"I guess we should talk about Danny and how we first him. Well, when I first met him he was this small screaming creature, I suppose I should forgive him, he was only a few hours old," he said with a small smile. He was relieved to receive a small chuckle from the group. "Well I should probably tell you why we are here." He stopped and looked down, taking in the gravity of his words. "Well, not why we 'here', but why we are standing under the Statue of Liberty."

_Flashback_

_Rafi sat down, wincing as the springs from the old couch dug into his back and stared at his younger brother. He looked pale and too thin, way too thin. But, what did he expect? The poor kid had been stabbed a couple of weeks. He knew it was his fault, he knew Danny had been in trouble, but nothing like this. Danny had been stabbed because of him._

"_Danny, hey little bro," he said with tense smile. "Where do you want to go little bro?"_

"_Go?" a twelve year old Danny asked hesitantly_

"_Yes, we need to go. Danny you know this," he said, gesturing with his hands towards the pale and still heeling Danny. "We need to leave Florida." Subconsciously, Rafi looked over his shoulder. "We need to leave as soon as possible."_

_Danny pulled out an old battered photography of the Statue of Liberty. "We need to go here," he said offering the photo with shaking hands. "It symbolises freedom, a new beginning, it symbolises everything we need."_

_Rafi placed a hand on a too bony shoulder. His younger brother was always the idealist one. The hope junkie, and he, for one, hoped Danny continued to hold onto it. Danny was bright, he was so freaking intelligent, he should be at a good school planning on going to university and then becoming lawyer, doctor or whatever he decided. He shouldn't, he shouldn't be running from drug dealers whom weren't his concern. He should have never have nearly died from his mistakes. Rafi looked down and found a smile for his baby brother. "Of course little bro," he said ruffling his hair. "Let's go to New York City."_

_End Flashback_

Rafi looked away, the happy memories still too raw against his emotions. "I-I, I should've taken him to see the Statue of Liberty. I promised I would, yet I never did. What kind of a brother does that make me? I cared about him; I don't know if ever knew."

Emma took Rafi's hand. "He knew Rafi, he knew." She found a small smile. "He told me about the time you took him to Rockaway Beach and made a surfboard out of a car bonnet."

Rafi smiled. Yes, those were the good times."

"He remembered them Rafi, and quite often spoke about them."

There was a pause, a slightly awkward silence. A gentle breeze ruffled their coats, the midday sun glistering across the Hudson River.

"I remember when Danny first joined. He was so energetic, I didn't think he could sit still for a minute," Viv said breaking the silence.

"I think we once had a bet on that," Jack said, smiling wirily. "You lost. I said he couldn't sit still for a minute, and you reckoned he would last five minutes."

"Man," Martin exclaimed. "I thought he was energetic, but he couldn't sit still for a minute?"

"Sounds like someone else I know," Emma said smirking. "I seem to remember you were a nightmare when we were kids. Always doing something; rock-climbing, snowboarding, sailing, running, playing baseball, football..."

"And I seem to remember, you were right behind me," Martin countered.

"Behind?" Emma exclaimed. "I think not Mr. Fitzgerald.

"So, did you ever get Danny out into the 'great outdoors?" Sam asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Great outdoors? Yup, I took him rock-climbing a couple of times, which was fine – although he preferred the indoor wall. Skiing was interesting, something about snow not being natural," Emma chuckled. "Camping, well ..."

"Are you serious? You took Danny Taylor camping?"

"What? God no! I think I once put my tent up in the apartment to check it was still in one piece or something like that. Anyway, just the look he gave the tent, was enough to tell me I was never going to get Danny Taylor in a tent!"

They stood there for hours, exchanging memories for a person who would now be only a memory. They knew he would never stray far from their thoughts, but no new memories would be formed. They would never hear his laugh again, or see his smile. Never see him comfort a small child, or protect an abused lady. It slowly dawned on them, as they opened the box, releasing the ashes into the evening breeze, this was the end. Their friend was no more than a memory.

Author's note: - So, this could be the end, or the linking chapter to the next part of the fic.

TBC?


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**18 months later**

Damn it he thought as he pulled his coat closer to his body, I'm not use to this weather. He'd left New York in June, the 15th of June 2009 to be exacted, and it was now the 1st of December 2010. Eighteen bloody months! Eighteen months working with the some of the most sadist people in the world, with limited contact with the people he loved. Sure, he had contact with them, he knew what they were doing etc, but he'd never had that direct contact he so sorely missed. He'd heard their recorded voices, read their letters, but it wasn't the same. He wanted to see them, talk to them face to face. He wanted to hold his fiancée, feel her skin against his own. And now, after eighteen months, he could. He wondered what it would be like after all of this time? Would they be able to continue their relationship from when they were so cruelly separated, or would there be some akwareness between them? And that's why, perhaps, he was standing outside her apartment building, not knowing what to say or how to say it. If it had been six months, he doubted there would be an issue, but eighteen months! He had tried to explain things in the letters he had given to Agent Hutchison. He hoped she understood. He knew he had prevent something terrible happening on US soil, but that still didn't take away those eighteen months without her?

He smiled and nodded his thanks as he caught the closing door. He stood, staring at the lift for a moment preparing his thoughts. He'd never been this nervous, even when he asked her to marry him. The last eighteen months had undoubtedly, been the worse of his life. Even in the darkest days of his childhood, there had been glimmers of hope and light, but he had none in the last eighteen months. He had clung to the end, to going home, yet he had never known when that would come. He had asked Agent Hutchison numerous times when he could go home, but had always been met with the same reply – 'you're doing an important job for your country' and so on. But he just wanted it to end, he just wanted to go home to all the things he knew and loved.

With a hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked gently on the door; waiting for the words to come to him, waiting to see the love of his life for the first time in eighteen months, one year and a sodding half. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, waiting, hoping. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he heard footsteps approach the door, yet no words had come to him.

His face screwed up with confusion, as an elderly man opened the door. He stared, no words coming from his open mouth.

"Can I help you?" the man asked suspiciously, holding the door firmly with one hand.

"Where's Emma?" Danny finally managed to blurt out.

"Emma?"

"Yes!" Danny exclaimed. "The woman who lives here!"

"I'm sorry son, but it's just my wife and I"

"But she has to be here!" Danny replied, in a panicked tone.

"Not for nine months, I can ask the super if he has a forwarding address," the man said kindly, taking pity on the obviously distressed young man.

"No, no," Danny said, holding his hands up. "I must have got it wrong. I'm so sorry I disturbed you."

"Are you sure I can't contact the super"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Danny replied, adding a smile for good measure. "Thank you again, and again, I'm sorry I disturbed you."

He bid his farewell, before turning and walking slowly away. What had happened? Emma had said she was happy in New York, why had she moved? In the messages Hutchison had given him, she spoke about redecorating the apartment, she had mentioned her job and promotions, and how all the opportunities were in New York. Why then, why would she lie to him? If the old man wasn't lying, and why would he? Why had she lied about redecorating the apartment six months ago, when she had moved over nine months ago? He massaged his temples as he felt another headache coming on. What the hell was happening? Who had lied to him, and why? What had changed? He didn't know who to trust or believe anymore. Jack, he thought, as he staggered out into the snow and icy winds, biting into his skin, like the knife being driven into his emotions and trust, twisting and turning, never letting go. He and Jack may not have departed on the best of terms, but there was one thing he could trust Jack to be, and that was to be straight with him. He hoped, unlike Emma, he still lived in the same apartment. He didn't think he could face going to the office, not that he worked there anymore. What happened if he had been away too long? What if everything had changed and there wasn't a place for him in this world anymore. Then what would he do? He had changed his name and started a fresh before, but could he do it again? Before he was eighteen years old, he didn't have anything to leave behind, and now he had too much to leave behind, well at least he thought he did. If too much time had passed, and there wasn't a place for him in this life, he guessed he would just have to pick himself up and move on. He pulled his coat around his lean frame and started to towards Jack's apartment.

**Two days later**

He sat shivering in the shadows. Jack hadn't returned in two days, he guessed he was caught up in a case; he didn't dare ask his neighbours. Finally, after he had just about given up, a familiar, hunched figure walked stiffly towards the apartment block. As he caught Jack's face in the dim street lights, he stifled back a gasp. He knew Jack hadn't been in the best of shape when he had left, but he certainly hadn't looked this bad. It was as though he had aged at least fifteen years since he had last seen him. The pain in his knee was far more pronounced. He looked as though he had lost weight, but not in a healthy way. He looked gaunt, frail almost. What the hell had happened to him over the last eighteen months? He watched him fumble with the lock and waited awhile. He didn't want to spring his 'reappearance' on the poor man before he hadn't even had the chance to remove his coat. He waited five, or maybe it was ten minutes before he stepped out of his hiding place and caught the closing door, taking a moment to compose himself before walking up the two flights of stairs to Jack's apartment. Talking a breath, he bit his lip and knocked on the door, not knowing what answers lay within those walls, but knowing as tough as they maybe, he needed to know.

"Coming." Came the muffled reply.

Danny nervously dug his hangs deep into his pockets and found a small smile. The door opened, he watched Jack's neutral expression pale and brow hitch into a shocked, confessed expression, before the door was closed again.


	8. Chapter 7

Another chapter! A huge thanks to everyone's reviews. I hope to get the next chapter uploaded in the next month or so.

**Chapter 7**

Jack stared blankly at the door. He rubbed his face, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what he has just seen. He has scattered his ashes over the Huston eighteen painful months ago. He closed his eyes as the painful memories began to resurface. He'd, they had just begun to move on. The nightmares had all but gone, and now this! He nervously stepped towards the door, peering through the spyhole. He pinched himself; well he wasn't dreaming he thought dryly. Maybe he had taken something and he was hallucinating – bloody cruel hallucination he thought. But he knew he hadn't; well unless someone had slipped something into one of his numerous coffees. Maybe it was exhaustion; he'd just worked forty eight hours straight. He knew he was tired, he didn't think he was, well, this tired. He stepped back, and leant against the wall, holding his head in his hands. Danny Taylor, formerly of the Missing Person's Unit, New York, a man whom he'd known for nearly eight years, the same man's ashes he had scattered eighteen months ago was standing, very much alive, outside his apartment. But why? How could someone go from dead to alive? His mind fired off question after question like a machine gun, but he had no answers to those questions. If the ashes he scattered into the Huston weren't Danny's who's were they? Were they even ashes? Of course no DNA could be extracted from ashes, so they could have never identified who's they were. Taking a deep breath, he placed a shaky hand on the door handle and opened it

He slid down the wall and sat there for a moment. What had he done? A man, a friend, whom he thought was dead, had stood before him. His reaction? Shut the door on him. No, not only had he shut the door, he'd told Danny, a man who he'd mourned his death for eighteen months to go. He had given his car keys and a wad of cash, and told him to leave. He had given Emma's address and told him to go. He had told Danny, a friend, whom he had known for nearly eight years to go. Why the hell had he done that? Sure he had been shocked, scared even, but to send him away without so much as a hello? What kind of man was he?

Danny sat, his head and arms resting against the steering wheel of Jack's car. What had just happened? He didn't expect his former boss to welcome him back with open arms, but he expected more than this. He had been working for the CIA, and Jack has known that. He had known every element of his mission, well up to Jack's security clearance. Jack must have known he was coming home. Then why the reaction? Why had Emma suddenly moved to D. C., when in all of her letters she had talked about redecorating the apartment in New York? Something just didn't add up. He rubbed his face with shaking hands. The CIA, or more importantly, Agent Hutchison had lied to him. But why and how could he prove it? He knew Agent Hutchison had lied to him, but how could it be proven without any evidence? He bit his lip and rubbed his face as the full gravity of the situation weighed down on his already heavy shoulders. The CIA probably didn't know about this mission. Basically, Danny Taylor was dead, and he, Carlos Rodriguez, was a war criminal, wanted by Danny Taylor's government.


End file.
